


let my hand speak for me

by nobetawefucklikeglenn



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Gags, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Married Threesome, Oral Sex, Smut, Spanking, Teasing, Threesome - F/M/M, au - glenn lives, birthday gift, glenngridvain, in which glenn tops everyone, inglennvain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26413579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobetawefucklikeglenn/pseuds/nobetawefucklikeglenn
Summary: glenn wonders what to get ingrid for her birthdayhis solution bumps right into him
Relationships: Glenn Fraldarius/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier, ingrid brandl galatea/sylvain jose gautier/glenn fraldarius
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	let my hand speak for me

Glenn has exactly one problem on the third day of the new year, and he isn’t quite sure how to solve it. Finding a good birthday gift for his wife is no easy task. Ingrid already has most of the things she could want. She just got a new saddle for her horse the other week, and they were due for a trip to Fraldarius and down to Galatea soon, so she’d be able to re-stock on the snacks and consumable goods she might want from home.

He’s never been confident in his gift giving abilities, so Glenn takes a walk outside for inspiration. Felix, for Annette’s last birthday, got her tickets to see the opera, but Glenn was sure that Ingrid would be far more excited about dinner before or dessert afterwards than the show itself. Besides, biting on his younger brother’s ideas didn’t feel so knightly.

Fhirdiad in the winter isn’t as bleak as Fraldarius or Gautier; the sun’s set just low enough that the clouds bounce a bright orange. Glenn paces through the small, surrounded garden inside of the palace and watches as the light rises up the walls and past the ceiling, leaving the night sky above him.

He throws out a half dozen ideas before he gets to a remotely decent one. Ingrid has been complaining for weeks about Glenn’s busy schedule. What if he cleared the next few days for her?

He’s musing how exactly to pull that off - what meetings to cancel, what responsibilities to pass on, how he can do better than last year’s time off - when it hits him.

It literally hits him. A distracted Sylvian Gautier bumps into Glenn, who’s closed his eyes after pacing around the same square for the hundredth time.

“Shit, sorry,” Sylvian says, equally startled at bumping into someone,

“You come here to think too?” Glenn asks. Sylvain’s not much taller than him, but he has to look closely to see the man’s eyes past his hair and the orange glow of the sun.

Sylvain nods, scratching the back of his head. “I need to get Ingrid a gift and I have no idea what.”

The lightbulb clicks in Glenn’s brain before he has the chance to think it through, and his body reacts on instinct.

He immediately grabs Sylvian by the waist and picks him up, throwing him up and over his shoulder. Sylvain responds too slow, giving Glenn the chance to grab his wrist from behind the other man and lock him into place before he can try to shake free.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sylvain says, trying to keep his voice down, used to sparring and wrestling matches from their childhood. He always lost.

Ingrid’s…. Look, if Glenn were being honest, his favorite thing about his wife was her shamelessness when it came to other attractive people. He was a secure man, sure in his relationship, but sometimes it was nice to think about not being the only source of satisfaction for his wife, especially between his busy duties and her insatiable thirst.

He absolutely, one hundred percent loves his wife. But sometimes he wishes he could clone himself and satisfy her gluttony and his own responsibilities.

On impulse, he shimmies Sylvain up comfortably on his shoulder and begins walking away.

“What the hell Glenn!?”

“Such an annoying fox,” Glenn says automatically. He isn’t trying to handle his new present for Ingrid too roughly, so he smacks Sylvain on the ass to get him to shut up.

“I won’t tell Ingrid you’re flirting with me,” Sylvain says from behind, now resigned to being carried away. Sylvain’s a smart man, and figures out the game quickly. Glenn decides to throw a curve, just to mess with him.

“Who said that’s where I’m taking you?”

He can sense Sylvain’s face pale behind him, arms limply trailing in their wake as Glenn walks quickly into his quarters with Sylvian in tow.

There’s still time before Ingrid returns home from work, and, especially on the eve of her birthday, Glenn knows she’ll want to jump him as soon as she gets home. He had precious little time to get Sylvain stripped and on the bed.

He chuckles to himself as if Sylvian didn’t have a choice in the matter. The incorrigible flirt can’t help himself anyway.

“You sure?” Sylvain asks as they step through the threshold of the doorway.

“Think about it this way,” Glenn reasons. “I’m saving you from having to think of a gift for yourself.”

\----

Sylvian fights back when Glenn goes for his shirt. He almost has to, out of pride alone. He’s taller, and his shoulders are wider, but Glenn is by far the better fighter. Stronger too, much to Sylvian’s dismay. All of his grappling experience means nothing as Glenn easily pins him onto the bed, weight on his hips, and strips off his shirt while keeping Sylvain’s wrists trapped in his hands.

“Are you gonna be a good boy and take your pants off for me, or am I gonna have to pig wrestle you down?”

“I thought I was a fox,” Sylvain quips, earning him a knee to the side.

“You’re lucky Ingrid likes you so much.”

Glenn forces Sylvain’s hands back to the bedframe and cuffs him.

 _Why do they even have handcuffs? Kinky bastards, the pair of them_ , Sylvian thinks, suddenly cold as his pants get yanked down and his legs, too, get cuffed.

“Do you have a bow for me at least?” he asks Glenn, who scoffs and throws a blanket over Sylvain’s body. 

“Be quiet when she comes in.”

Glenn shoves a cloth in his mouth, gagging him and leaving him trapped in the dark of Ingrid’s bedroom. 

\----

Ingrid’s having a good day as she walks down the stone hallway into her bedroom in the palace. Living with Glenn took time to adjust to, but the job that she got soon after, which had offices in a different building, made it easy to see the palace as home. 

Tomorrow’s her birthday, and she’s giddy with excitement at celebrating with Glenn, who’d gotten her a series of thoughtful gifts over the last few years.

She knows it stresses him out to spend so much time thinking, but hopefully he won’t try to top last year’s gift - a weeklong ship voyage with their own private cabin - and stress himself out doing so. She can imagine him pacing around the palace already, and half expects to bump into him as she walks through the hallway connecting their wing of the residence to the rest of the palace.

The bedroom is dark when she walks through the arch that frames their large, wooden doors, and she immediately knows that Glenn is waiting for her. Candles, resting on bookshelves and desks and drawers on the edges of their bedroom, flicker on as soon as she walks inside, and Glenn is standing in a pressed uniform in the center of the stone stone floors.

“Hello, my love,” he says, and Ingrid drops everything in her hands to walk up to him and kiss him so hard she thinks she might go lightheaded. She has been waiting patiently since they woke up and Glenn promised her that she’d need to take the next day off, and the mere sight of him standing at attention, waiting for her is enough to make her rub her thighs together in anticipation. 

Ingrid’s wearing her office robes, and Glenn’s hands find her hips despite the shapeless form they give her. His grip makes her shiver, and she kisses him again, pulling his bottom lip away from his mouth and daring him to follow. 

He dips her, and the sudden rush makes Ingrid grip Glenn’s arms. He’s strong, and lean, and the feeling of his firm arm muscles in her hands make her want to rip his clothes off right on the spot. She imagines how he looks, naked and under the candlelight, and nearly moans into his mouth. 

One of the things Ingrid expects from Glenn is his affection. He’s never shied from giving it, though she knows that sometimes she’s too gluttonous for her good husband. There’s never a need to apologize, with Glenn. He satisfies her like no lover she’d ever had before, and all day she’s been giddy to be under his touch.

Ingrid yelps as Glenn reads her mind, doubtless noticing the way she’s hurriedly moving her hips closer to his, and his hands trail to cup the curve of her ass.

She reaches up to kiss just under his ear, enjoying the way her breath bounces back from his warm skin. “Is this my present dear?”

“Pull up your skirt and bend over,” Glenn says, twisting her so that one of her arms is pinned behind her back. The tone in his voice leaves no room for debate. 

Glenn’s voice is the reason, perhaps, she’s so gluttonous for him. He has a commander’s voice - firm, authoritative, and difficult to disobey. He wields it the way he does a sword or a spear.

He doesn’t release the hand trapped behind her back as he walks her to the edge of the bed. Instead, he waits until she uses one hand to hike up her skirt above her hips, and waits again until that hand is flat against the bed, the way she knows he expects.

His other hand gives her a light slap on the side of her ass, and Ingrid arches her back to present herself to him on command. Her skin stings slightly, buzzes and she almost wants him to do it again. 

“Is this my present?” she says, smirking into the sheets.

Glenn reaches over to stroke her cheek, his finger trailing dangerously close to her lips. “No dear, be patient.”

“Yes, sir,” she says, and Glenn slaps her ass again.

In a hundred years, Ingrid Brandl Galatea would have never imagined herself submitting to a man. And certainly not in the bedroom. 

But much of their partnership has been negotiation. Glenn is a man bound by his duties, and even with the superiority of their vows to each other cannot promise every piece of himself to her. Not when he had to be ready to perish at a moment’s notice for king and country.

Both of them, early on in being married, had dealt with severe anxiety at the thought of being separated. Every intimate moment after that became desperate, hurried, and total. 

So when Glenn commands her to count as he levels his palm against her, sending a sharp _crack_ through their room, she obeys, mouthing the words with the shakiest voice she could put together.

And when Glenn’s finger slides over Ingrid’s folds, she suppresses the urge to ask him to fuck her right there. “Goddess,” she whispers instead, rolling her hips into his touch.

She’s been wet since she saw him standing in the candlelight, fully clothed, and everything he’s done to her has only served to fuel the need between her legs. Glenn pulls her standing, fingers still inside of her, and finally releases her arm to pull her dress off above her arms. He shoves her back against the bed, chest and cheek touching the soft covers.

Ingrid’s between blissful moans when she realizes that something about the bed was off. Glenn, whenever he’d wake up after her, or get home before her, would make the bed perfectly. Their blanke was simply laying over the covers. She turns her head to look at him, unable to focus on the fact that the blanket also isn’t laying evenly on the mattress.

Glenn smirks at the look in her eyes, pushing his fingers deeper to coax out one last soft gasp, before one of his hands finds her hair and pulls her head up.

“This is your present,” he says, sliding his finger out of her and tugging the sheets off their bed.

The first thing she sees is a cock, rigid at the center of their bed. The surprise almost leaves her laughing, except for Glenn’s timing, touching the deepest part of her before he can react to it.

The next thing she sees is Sylvain’s body, eagle spread and tied down, eyes rabid and mouth gagged. The pieces click in her head instantly. 

She turns to Glenn quizzitively.

“Put his cock in your mouth.”

She’s slept with Sylvain before. Before she and Glenn were married, when their childhood engagement seemed distant and far off, she and Glenn untwined each other from their lives to make sure they were both willing to satisfy the commitments of husband and wife. Glenn followed the king and queen, while Ingrid went to the academy with the prince, and for five years scarcely talked or traded letters.

Of course they would be wed no matter what. But whether it was a marriage of love or politics was left in the air, and their half decade apart still tugs the strings in Ingrid’s heart.

It was hard, it is hard, to love a man so deeply and yet be prepared to part with him. In those five years she imagined what it would be like to be with another man, or to find a wife for herself. Ingrid let herself date - Dorothea, and Ashe, and eventually realized that Sylvain was the only one that came close to knowing her and accepting her the way she needed to be accepted.

Ingrid leads Glenn’s hand, still wound in her hair and pulling the locks back, as she crawls into the bed, meeting Sylvain’s eyes before sliding his cock in between her lips.

Sylvain’s entire body tenses against his bindings, and his hips arch off the bed. The groan that rips from his throat tells Ingrid that he’s been laying there for longer than was probably comfortable. It made her hot, thinking about Sylvain waiting under the sheets, forced to hear she and Glenn’s warm up for sex and unable to do anything to relieve himself. 

Glenn explains as her lips slide over Sylvain’s head. She uses one hand to push his hips down onto the bed to keep him from thrusting in the air while she works slowly, licking a line up the side of his cock.

“I couldn’t think of anything to top last year, so I decided to double down,” Glenn says. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Ingrid turns around to look at him, meeting Glenn’s grey eyes. Her husband was smirking, obviously pleased at Ingrid’s reaction.

“Do I get you too?” she asks.

It’s a good present, but fucking Sylvain alone wouldn’t have been enough for her. Years had passed since the last time they were intimate together. Now, they’re best friends, drinking buddies, and his occasional romance counselor. It’s Glenn that she wants to please, and thank for his thoughtfulness.

Glenn says nothing in response. Instead, Ingrid hears the ruffling of cloth and warm flesh pressed against the back of her hips. 

She’s kneeling on the bed, and Glenn stands just behind her, his own cock held just outside of Ingrid’s entrance. The very proximity makes Ingrid groan into Sylvain’s length, now barely contained in her mouth. 

Ingrid’s body is on fire. Her senses overload at the feeling of two cocks, and whatever thoughts she has dissipate as Glenn’s hands roughly clutch her hips and he sinks into her, grunting as his cock plunges up to the hilt.

Ingrid feels stretched and frantic as Glenn fucks her from behind, setting a blistering pace that Ingrid can’t keep up with. He keeps her hips still with his hands so she doesn't’ have to, and she pours her attention towards Sylvain instead.

His cock is warm and wet in her mouth, and being filled in two parts of her body is almost too much sensation. He lips wrap around Sylvain and she bobs her head down to the rhythm of Glenn’s grunts, trying her best to time the mewls and sighs that escape her so that Sylvain’s not filling her mouth when they slip out.

The low coil in the bottom of her belly has been tensing, but it hits a fever pitch when Glenn buries himself as deep as he can and slaps her ass, which is still sensitive and sore from his teasing earlier. Sylvain’s cock pops from Ingrid’s mouth as she squeezes around Glenn’s length.

“Glenn, Glenn please,” she whimpers, and Glenn slowly drags his cock out of her and thrusts in again roughly. He does it again and again until she comes, barely able to contain her body’s shaking. Glenn uses a hand to force her mouth down on Sylvain’s cock, stifling the sounds coming out of her mouth.

Glenn keeps himself buried inside of her as she comes down, and Ingrid’s skin feels like fire. Beads of sweat form on her arms, and Glenn’s hand won’t let her up, instead applying a steady pressure on her head until Sylvain’s cock fills her mouth as deep as she’s able to take.

Her eyes water as Glenn allows her to rise and take a breath, and waits for her to bring her own head back down. She does, and Glenn fists her hair instead, forcing her to look up at Sylvain.

He comes as soon as her eyes meet his. His eyelids shut over his hazel eyes and his face controls in pleasure as he comes in her mouth. Sylvain’s body writhes, jerking against the cuffs trapping him on the bed. He groans and grunts against his gag, and warmth spreads inside of Ingrid’s mouth as Sylvain’s hips thrust his cock between the tight seal of her lips.

Glenn lets up and pulls himself out of her as Sylvain’s breath settles, and Ingrid collapses, using Sylvain’s thigh to rest her head as she looks back up at Glenn.

He looks pleased, though he hasn’t finished yet, Ingrid realizes. She’s about to turn and reach for him when he gives her a soft pat on the bum and bites his lip. 

“I’m going to do some work for a bit while you play,” Glenn says, wiping himself off, putting his pants back on, and sitting down at his desk. Take your time, I’ll be there when I’m done.”

It’s very Glenn, to withhold his own pleasure for duty and spouse. Ingrid nods and accepts the gift without protest, knowing that Glenn won’t be too far away. She’ll just have to entice him back to her. 

“Thanks, dear,” Ingrid says, glancing over at Sylvian, who’s recovered enough to look at Ingrid with a stunned expression. “Now what will I do with you?”

**Author's Note:**

> leave a note about what you'd like to see next


End file.
